


Running Into You

by kankokujinpoi



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Bad Days, Domestic life?, Gen, M/M, Poor Tsukishima, Slice of Life, Work Days, poor kuroo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-15
Updated: 2016-04-15
Packaged: 2018-06-02 08:48:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6559897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kankokujinpoi/pseuds/kankokujinpoi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kuroo has a bad day. Then he runs into Tsukishima...literally.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Running Into You

Kuroo is having a bad day.

He slept through his alarm this morning. Had no time to take a much needed shower. The night before he stayed out a little too late playing a pick up volleyball game with Bokuto and Akaashi. It's been forever since Kuroo had the chance to play a game, let alone see two of his good friends.

It's the most he's bumped, set, or spiked in a while. Even jumping felt a little foreign to him. It still felt good, though. Sweat dripping down his face. How stiff his muscles already started getting by the time he crawled in bed. He should have showered when he got home that night, but it was already way past midnight and Kuroo was way too tired to worry about his clean sheets. Or his wrinkled dress shirt for his meeting the next day.

By the time Kuroo woke up this morning he didn't have any time to match his socks. Forget about wrinkle-free shirts. He had to take the poor man's shower: water splashed on the face and an extra dab of cologne. Careful though, too many dabs makes it smell like you're hiding something.

He ended up calling into his meeting. He couldn't look at the case files since he had to focus on the road so he had trouble following the meeting in general. Plus the reception was horrible. He could barely make out any of the voices and he really only caught every other word being said. That means twice the work when he finally made it into the office.

Which took longer than anticipated. Not just because Kuroo was late, but when he actually made it to work, the elevators were being serviced. Walking up twelve flights of stairs is not fun in dress shoes. Walking down twelve flights of stairs in dress shoes is just as worse. Sure, the elevators would probably be up and running by the end of the work day, but somewhere in between Kuroo catching his breath and assuring his legs they were done moving for at least a few hours someone thought it would be a good idea to take their cigarette break inside the building.

Kuroo wanted to stay behind, but the sprinklers started going off, so the threat of a fire was real. It was not a drill. There was Kuroo's shower he missed this morning.

So by the time Kuroo actually had the chance to make it to his office and work, his legs were begging for a rest, clothes still damp from the sprinklers, and his stomach was growling. There's no way Kuroo was going to walk down twelve flights of stairs for a second time to get some food. He'd have to settle for vending machine food. Which would have been fine.

Except he forgot his wallet at home.

So instead his only option was to bum food off Yaku and Kenma. And they got Chipotle.

Kuroo hates Chipotle.

The second half of the day tried to make up for the first. Tried. But... well, to sum it up in three phrases.

Lost a case.

Picked up two more cases.

Elevators are still out of order.

“I'm just now getting in my car,” Kuroo says, trying to unlock his car door while balancing his phone in between his shoulder and ear. Just a few more minutes and he'll be back in his apartment. Hopefully he can work on erasing this horrible day from his mind.

“No way, my legs are shot,” he feels his phone slipping, “I've been assigned two new cases and all I really want to do is crawl back in bed and pray this whole day was just a nightmare.”

Bokuto is trying to convince Kuroo another night of pick-up volleyball is a good idea. Of course it's a good idea to Bokuto. It's all practice to him. How Akaashi keeps up with him on top of a full time job Kuroo has no idea.

“Listen, Bo, my bro,” It's not often that Kuroo puts his serious voice with Bokuto. He's too tired, too exhausted, to filter, “I've had the worst day, give me a day or two and I'll come back out. Sound good?”

He's too busy trying to calm down the steadily upset owl on the other end of the call. Kuroo starts his car and starts to back out of his parking spot. 

But then he hears a thud. Or maybe he feels it first. Regardless, he hits something.

Or someone.

“Fuck, Bokuto I'll call you back,” Kuroo puts his car in park and throws his phone in his passenger seat. Didn't he check the mirrors? There was no one coming, right?

Kuroo's biggest fears come true when he walks to the back of his car. As if his day couldn't get any worse.

Laying on the ground, holding his arm, is a boy. A very blonde boy. A very good looking blonde boy. 

“Fuck fuck fuck,” Kuroo starts chanting. The boy is grimacing, nursing his right shoulder. At least he's still conscious...

“Fuck is right,” the boy's voice is cold. Judging by the voice alone, you wouldn't know he's just been hit. By a car. By Kuroo's car. 

“Sorry, sorry, sorry,” Kuroo begins, circling the boy, making sure there's no bloodshed. There's no apparent mess on the boy, none on the ground, maybe there's a small dent on his car. Which totally blows because Kuroo just paid his car loan off. He's sure his insurance won't cover this. Although he's technically been rear-ended, right? Who is he kidding, there's no way this guy's insurance is going to pay for the dent.

“Are you seriously making sure your car is okay when you've just dislocated my shoulder?”

Kuroo realizes he's been staring at the dent in his car. How the boy took the hit so well he has no idea. It's not a deep dent, but still. How fast had Kuroo been going!? Judging by the dent the boy should have flown. But judging by the boy...

He looks perfect. 

He looks tall. It's a little hard to tell, sitting with his legs folded Indian style, but Kuroo can't help but notice how long those legs are. And just how slender the boy's arms are. Again, a little hard since those, too, are folded against themselves. His suit is fitted, showing off his lean figure and broad shoulders. And those eyes. Even in the dim parking garage they're glowing. Those honey brown eyes staring right into Kuroo's soul. It's like they're trying to tell him something. Something important. Something most strangers would never say right away to each other. 

“I think I'm going into shock.”

Oh. Right.

 

“Shit, shit, shit,” what is Kuroo supposed to do? He's witnessed injuries before, even caused a few, but all were on a volleyball court. Where people knew the risk in the activity. Walking to your car in a parking garage? Very low risk. 

“Do you only say things in three's?” The cold voice is starting to thaw. It's not necessarily breaking, but Kuroo can hear the pain coming through. Luckily for Kuroo he's one of two cars parked on the top highest level of the garage. He had been so late to work that his usual spot on the third level was taken. He assumes the only car, parked just a few spots down, belongs to the pretty blonde. He was so close.

“No, no, no,” Kuroo cringes at how even in a state of shock, the boy pulls off a smug look flawlessly. Kuroo clears his throat, “okay. I'm sorry. Let me drive you to the emergency room.” 

“Wow, how kind. You shouldn't have.” Kuroo takes the sarcasm as a good sign. He bends over and picks up the laptop bag on the ground. When he offers a hand to help the boy off the ground he's met with refusal. Like a little kid, there's a pout forming on the boy's lips. He pulls back from Kuroo's hand, wincing at the pain that's no doubt spread from his shoulder to the rest of his body.

Kuroo's day just keeps getting worse. He should be at home by now. In his pajamas, glasses on, wine in hand. He's already reasoned with himself. Struck a deal. Promised to look over his new cases and in return, pizza and wing night. 

But instead he's still at work and still in his wrinkled shirt. He places the laptop bag in the back seat and begins cleaning out his passenger seat. He does a quick smell check (just shame, maybe stale shame) and takes a deep breath. 

By the time he walks around to the back of the car again the blonde boy is up, but barely. He's leaning against the car. His skin pale and glistening, matching the moon beginning to show. 

Damn, how long have they been in the garage? 

“Here,” Kuroo ignores the boys grunts, crediting them to the shock. He takes hold of the boy's good shoulder and helps him to his passenger seat. There's little fight, but it's still a little difficult dealing with someone taller than himself. He's not used to that. 

Kuroo pauses once the boy is in his car and slumped against the seat, breathing a little heavier than before. He's wondering about the seat belt. Should he try to strap the boy in, or risk injuring the boy further? Knowing Kuroo's luck he'll end up getting into a four car pile up and ejecting the poor guy out the window. 

“Just forget the fucking seat belt and drive. And try not to hit anyone this time.”

It's the shock talking. It's just the shock talking, Kuroo tells himself as he walks around to the diver side of his car. 

Oh by the way, his legs still hurt. And he's still wearing his dress shoes. And his shirt is still wrinkled.

“Alright, I'm just going to ignore that comment,” Kuroo says as he starts the engine. He blasts the AC, hoping it will give some relief to the boy. Poor thing is sweating like crazy. 

It seems like the day has finally shown mercy on Kuroo. The drive isn't near as bad as he was anticipating. Rush hour traffic is over, all Kuroo has to battle are the occasional red lights and stop signs. Every so often Kuroo checks on the blonde, making sure he's still conscious. He's no doctor, but he thinks losing consciousness is a bad sign when it comes to someone in shock. 

“I'm sorry.” 

The boy's voice sounds more composed than before. It surprises Kuroo. The apology, not the voice. Kuroo doesn't think he could ever forget that voice. 

“Why are you sorry? I'm the one that hit you.”

“For being mean earlier.” Something tells Kuroo that this boy is not in his normal state. 

“Again, you were only mean because I hit you.”

“No, I'm kind of an asshole. I'm sorry.” The guy almost sounds more pained apologizing than after Kuroo hit him. 

“Well,” Kuroo would normally love to take advantage of this type of situation. Convince the guy that it really wasn't Kuroo's fault, that the he took a running start into the back of Kuroo's car, “regardless. I've had a horrible day and all I cared about was getting home. I wasn't paying attention and now you're shoulder is wrecked. You have every right to be mean to me and no reason to be sorry. I'm the sorry one.”

“You have a nice voice.”

“I...what?”

“Shit. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to say that out loud. I'm sorry. The shock must be wearing off. I can't think straight. My shoulder feels likes it's trying to tear itself from my body.”

Kuroo smiles at how cute the boy looks, trying his hardest to mask all of the emotions floating to his face. He decides to ignore the compliment to spare the boy's feelings, “we're almost there.”

“I'm sorry.”

“Listen, Blondie--”

“Tsukishima.”

“Tsukishima, there is nothing for you to be sorry about, like I said--”

“I'm sorry you had such a bad day.”

Kuroo opens his mouth to protest again, but stops. Tsukishima rolls his head against the window, probably enjoying the coolness of the outside air. He winces every so often, muttering a curse word or two. How can this boy, self proclaimed asshole, be so kind? Especially after being hit by a car! Kuroo's car! 

“It's...okay.” Kuroo is rarely at a loss for words, but luckily for Kuroo his passenger is full of them.

“I wasn't having a good day either. I normally don't come to this firm, but we had some case work to discuss but one of the lawyers ended up not showing up so there wasn't much to discuss. Then the elevators didn't work and some idiot lit a cig in the stairwell so the fire alarm went off. Probably the same idiot that missed his morning meeting.”

“Hey! I don't smoke.”

“...I'm sorry....”

Both boys laugh, Kuroo catching Tsukishima wince at the motion. 

“I'm sorry I missed your meeting. Like I said, horrible day.” If Kuroo had known he'd be meeting Tsukishima at his morning meeting he would have been showered, wrinkle-free, and wearing matching socks. He probably would have stopped for coffee and donuts, too. Maybe some fruit. You know, for a healthier choice. Who doesn't love strawberries?

“Although, it seems like you've had a pretty rotten day, too.” Kuroo says as he pulls into the emergency center's parking lot.

“It's not so bad.”

Kuroo laughs again as he helps Tsukishima out of his car, “says the guy with a dislocated shoulder. Maybe internal bleeding.”

“I met you, though.”

Kuroo's glad that Tsukishima is leaning on him for support and missing the stupid smile on his face. For a guy that claims to be such an asshole Tsukishima is awfully nice to Kuroo. 

“Although if you had shown up to our meeting I would have met you without getting hit by your car.”

Ah, so he is an asshole.

Which only makes him more attractive in Kuroo's eyes. 

It's more than a dislocated shoulder. It's a dislocated shoulder and a cracked humerus. When the doctors realize Kuroo has no relation to Tsukishima besides the guy that hit him they have the blonde call an actual acquaintance. 

There's a moment in between Tsukishima's throbbing shoulder pain and the high from his pain meds that the blonde's level of awareness is back to what Kuroo assumes is his normal state. His shoulder is set in a sling and arm wrapped tightly, supporting the crack in his bone.

“Listen...” Tsukishima pauses, searching for Kuroo's name he hasn't given.

“Kuroo.”

“Kuroo. Right. Thanks for driving me here and making sure I'm alright. And sorry for any nonsense you had to hear.” Kuroo's feet are killing him at this point. He's had at least two little kids tell him his socks don't match, and he thinks he has permanent wrinkles in his dress shirt. 

“It was the pain talking, the pain I caused, so we're even.”

Kuroo would glue his dress shoes to his feet and walk twelve flights of stairs in a wrinkled shirt every day if he could make Tsukishima smile again. 

Tsukishima's ride comes and Kuroo doesn't want to say goodbye so soon. There's an awkward silence that Kuroo likes to think means Tsukishima feels the same way. It's not the pain killers. Kuroo watches the blonde, arm tightly wrapped in a sling, walk towards the automatic doors. 

“Well, as weird as this sounds, it was nice meeting you.” Tsukishima waves with his good arm before he starts walking out into the night. 

Kuroo wants to ask for Tsukishima's number, but he doesn't think it's acceptable to ask for someone's number right after you've hit them with a car and cracked their humerus. But then he remembers that Tsukishima talked about their meeting this morning. Meaning they'll be working together on at least one of the cases Kuroo was assigned this morning. 

Kuroo stands, yelling across the emergency waiting room, “maybe I'll run into you again.”

Really, Kuroo?

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sure it's non-realistic for Kuroo to back out of a parking spot and hit Tsukishima hard enough to crack a bone and dislocate his shoulder without sending him flying. Or for Tsukishima to put a dent in a car, but stranger things have happened, right?


End file.
